earlier when she had licked her lips.
Was it worth repeating? It was worth the chance. Once more she let her tongue trace
the contours of her mouth, and saw his eyes narrow. Good. He had noticed.
"Your cravat," she finished.
In response he bowed and slowly began to unwind
the long piece of linen. The play of his hands made it difficult to swallow,
her mouth was so dry. Hastily she took a hefty swallow of port, which promptly
went down the wrong way. Coughing and spluttering, her eyes streaming, she let
him pat her on the back until the attack was over. How inelegant she must look.
Red eyed, red faced, and blotchy, no doubt.
Catherine accepted his proffered handkerchief
and wiped her eyes. "Your throw," she reminded him. "Your choice."
"Then I throw three." He shook,
rolled, and cast the dice almost before she could draw breath. "Damn, I
have three aces and a king. The two is superficial. It is now all down to
you."
Catherine was sure somehow, he had jeopardized
his throw. Why else had he finished with such a poor showing? However she had
seen nothing. She took the proffered dice and began to roll them in her palm.
She had no idea why it was necessary. Indeed, until Jermyn had shown her this
way of dicing it had always been with two dice and a quick flick of her hand to
cast them. This was much more exciting, and did involve some skill. It was not
totally chance.
Her first roll was not much better than his. "Two, three, three four six." She could go for a
straight, but it was a gamble. You are
playing dice, it is meant to be a
gamble. She giggled inwardly. Take a
chance, if you don't win, you don't lose. The prize is Brook. If you win the
prize is your self-esteem . In truth she didn't know which outcome was
preferable.
"I will throw two." Catherine picked
one of the cubes showing three, and the one with the six uppermost. Absently
she rubbed them up her arm. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the predatory
glint in his, and repeated the movement, before slowly drawing them over her
chest and putting them next to her mouth. She formed a kiss.
"For luck."
"Catherine, you are pushing your luck," Brook said. "If you are innocent of
seduction, I must explain what those gestures do to a man. If you are not, be
warned, they are working. I am sure you must remember how my body responded to
yours? That has not changed, if anything it has grown stronger with
abstinence."
She laughed, did not answer, and flicked the
dice across the board. One clipped the edge and turned on itself to reveal a
five. The other rolled from one end of the board to the other. The tick of the
clock on the mantle sounded loud as both watched the die’s journey. After what
seemed like an hour it rested on one edge and fell. Another
five.
"So, two, three, four,
four, five. A pair no more. Is this where one of us
says, “Life rests on the throw of a dice?"
He grinned. His face lit up and he was the Brook
she had once known. "You could do. I prefer to say the rest of our lives depend on the outcome.
Toss them, put one of us into raptures, and the other
into despair."
Who would
experience which? With a resolution she didn't feel, Catherine picked one of
the dice that showed four, and warmed the ivory for a brief second.
"I
throw one, a pair is not good, I may as well go for
broke." She closed her eyes and let it go. She heard it roll; then all was
silent.
"Are you not going to look?" Brook's
voice held amusement and nothing else.
"Should I? Will I be happy?"
"Look and see."
Cautiously she opened her eyes, and looked at
him. Nothing showed on his face, it was devoid of expression. She let her eyes
wander to the table. There in the middle were the two dice she had cast moments
before.
It took several seconds for the results to sink
in.
A six — a glorious, game-winning six.
"I, er ...I have a
straight. I believe it is a winner, my lord. So, therefore I win the wager two
hands to one."
"Indeed you do, the bet is now struck off.
I wish
Was it worth repeating? It was worth the chance. Once more she let her tongue trace
the contours of her mouth, and saw his eyes narrow. Good. He had noticed.
"Your cravat," she finished.
In response he bowed and slowly began to unwind
the long piece of linen. The play of his hands made it difficult to swallow,
her mouth was so dry. Hastily she took a hefty swallow of port, which promptly
went down the wrong way. Coughing and spluttering, her eyes streaming, she let
him pat her on the back until the attack was over. How inelegant she must look.
Red eyed, red faced, and blotchy, no doubt.
Catherine accepted his proffered handkerchief
and wiped her eyes. "Your throw," she reminded him. "Your choice."
"Then I throw three." He shook,
rolled, and cast the dice almost before she could draw breath. "Damn, I
have three aces and a king. The two is superficial. It is now all down to
you."
Catherine was sure somehow, he had jeopardized
his throw. Why else had he finished with such a poor showing? However she had
seen nothing. She took the proffered dice and began to roll them in her palm.
She had no idea why it was necessary. Indeed, until Jermyn had shown her this
way of dicing it had always been with two dice and a quick flick of her hand to
cast them. This was much more exciting, and did involve some skill. It was not
totally chance.
Her first roll was not much better than his. "Two, three, three four six." She could go for a
straight, but it was a gamble. You are
playing dice, it is meant to be a
gamble. She giggled inwardly. Take a
chance, if you don't win, you don't lose. The prize is Brook. If you win the
prize is your self-esteem . In truth she didn't know which outcome was
preferable.
"I will throw two." Catherine picked
one of the cubes showing three, and the one with the six uppermost. Absently
she rubbed them up her arm. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the predatory
glint in his, and repeated the movement, before slowly drawing them over her
chest and putting them next to her mouth. She formed a kiss.
"For luck."
"Catherine, you are pushing your luck," Brook said. "If you are innocent of
seduction, I must explain what those gestures do to a man. If you are not, be
warned, they are working. I am sure you must remember how my body responded to
yours? That has not changed, if anything it has grown stronger with
abstinence."
She laughed, did not answer, and flicked the
dice across the board. One clipped the edge and turned on itself to reveal a
five. The other rolled from one end of the board to the other. The tick of the
clock on the mantle sounded loud as both watched the die’s journey. After what
seemed like an hour it rested on one edge and fell. Another
five.
"So, two, three, four,
four, five. A pair no more. Is this where one of us
says, “Life rests on the throw of a dice?"
He grinned. His face lit up and he was the Brook
she had once known. "You could do. I prefer to say the rest of our lives depend on the outcome.
Toss them, put one of us into raptures, and the other
into despair."
Who would
experience which? With a resolution she didn't feel, Catherine picked one of
the dice that showed four, and warmed the ivory for a brief second.
"I
throw one, a pair is not good, I may as well go for
broke." She closed her eyes and let it go. She heard it roll; then all was
silent.
"Are you not going to look?" Brook's
voice held amusement and nothing else.
"Should I? Will I be happy?"
"Look and see."
Cautiously she opened her eyes, and looked at
him. Nothing showed on his face, it was devoid of expression. She let her eyes
wander to the table. There in the middle were the two dice she had cast moments
before.
It took several seconds for the results to sink
in.
A six — a glorious, game-winning six.
"I, er ...I have a
straight. I believe it is a winner, my lord. So, therefore I win the wager two
hands to one."
"Indeed you do, the bet is now struck off.
I wish
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